


Memories on the Edge

by FoxRafer



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for challenge 9 at <a href="http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/"><b>picfor1000</b></a>. My <a href="http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t68/FoxRafer/picfor1000.jpg"><b>assigned picture</b></a> (© Tiago Ribeiro) made me think of looking back at one's life.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Memories on the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for challenge 9 at [**picfor1000**](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/). My [**assigned picture**](http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t68/FoxRafer/picfor1000.jpg) (© Tiago Ribeiro) made me think of looking back at one's life.

The tears in Kamaria's eyes were real, but despair had not yet taken hold. They would be coming for her soon, she could feel it. Her body trembled slightly from fear and adrenaline, but they also kept her on her feet, still standing despite the needles of hopelessness that constantly pricked down her spine. The Kel'sa wanted nothing from them; this was merely sport. Knowing her friends had died for their sadistic entertainment made it hurt all the more.

Thomsen had been taken first and soon after his lifeless body had been dragged into the room then mutilated, patches of skin and chunks of flesh cut from him then casually tossed through the bars. They'd forced Nurmi to carry the body out and only Nurmi's head returned, thrown into their holding cell like a bowling ball. It still sat in the corner under Kamaria's jacket, but even out of sight it screamed.

When Posavec came back he was still alive, barely. She had knelt beside him to examine his injuries, and for the first time in months had thought of Dr. McCoy. As a child he'd been her favorite uncle, and many a spare moment had been spent in medical. He never grimaced when she ran into sickbay, the little girl others didn't think should even be onboard. There was always licorice in his office reserved exclusively for her and she loved listening to his stories, especially those her mother thought were "unsuitable" for a girl her age. Later he taught her the basics of triage and rudimentary field medicine, how not to be handcuffed by the absence of a tricorder. He'd always made her feel special, always made time for her.

It didn't take special training to see that Posavec wouldn't make it, and for a moment she considered giving him a quick and painless death. In the end she simply held his hand until his breathing ceased and his heart stopped, hoped some part of him knew he wasn't alone. She spared another look at his body, then once again ran through the route to get back to the shuttle.

They should have known the moment they were captured the Kel'sa had no intention of keeping them alive; their sight had not been obscured as they were escorted to the brig. For centuries the Kel'sa had gone to great lengths to conceal their technology and culture from the Federation; to allow her and her crew members to see this ship should have warned them to the brutality that was to come.

The Captain would be disappointed in you, she thought, laughing at herself that she still couldn't call him Jim no matter how many times he told her to. She'd never served under him, had been fresh out of the Academy the last time she saw him, but he'd always be the Captain to her. Now she could hear him clearly in her head. _Use everything they have, good or bad, against them. Make all of it your weapon._

So as she retraced the steps, she also visualized every instrument panel, computer terminal and service hatch; the average height and size of the Kel'sa she'd seen; what she could infer about their weapons. Thanks to her mother, Kamaria had a basic knowledge of the language. She'd been fascinated at her mother's ability to speak dialects from so many non-aligned planets, and spent countless hours studying her linguistics journals. Her mother had also shown her how to improvise her way around an alien computer, and Kamaria was convinced she could access their systems if needed.

Of course that would all be moot if she couldn't get out of this room. She had no idea if there were bulkheads or service chutes on this vessel, but she remembered what Scotty always said, that every ship, no matter how foreign, had to follow some basic rules of construction. And the panel behind the guard's desk was too low for storage and yet was the right size for a humanoid to crawl through; it must lead to some kind of access tunnel, mechanical or otherwise.

She felt oddly sanguine about what would happen next. The one thing she was confident about was fighting. She'd gotten into more trouble because of it, and it'd helped her out of more than a few jams. Her first teacher had also been her first crush. Lieutenant Sulu had introduced her not only to hand-to-hand combat, but to swordplay as well, something she still had never told her parents.

Sulu was tough during training, but incredibly kind elsewhere. He never complained about a moonstruck teenager who took advantage of every opportunity to be around him. She'd even feigned an interest in plants just to listen to him talk, mentally cataloging every inflection and tone. But when he was teaching, her focus never wavered and she absorbed it all. If she could get into the corridor she liked her odds, even if they were still stacked against her.

Her whole life she'd known the immediacy of death and so didn't live to grow old. She believed in treating life like an enormous supernova that never fades, an unparalleled explosion of heat and light, even if it meant she shattered from the energy. But although the situation was dire, she didn't believe it was her time to die. This would become a war story, not unlike the tales she heard while growing up on the _Enterprise_. She'd been influenced by every mission, every crew member, and now those lessons would ensure her survival.

Kamaria closed her eyes, summoned some of her father's discipline and control, then completed the mask she needed to escape - the picture of a broken and defeated woman. She slowly walked to the front of the cell and spoke a few carefully chosen words. The guard approached and unlocked the door with a vile and lascivious sneer. It will feel good to take you down, she thought, welcoming the building fire pulsing through her veins.


End file.
